The Warrior's Bride (Warriors 0f Valkred Book 3)

by Roxie Ray

  Perhaps. But in the end, it was a simple matter of the devil we knew versus the one we didn't.

  The Sives were greedy and deadly, but their only goal was to make money and maintain their position as the most powerful cartel in the universe. Torqa was a capricious madwoman who was unwilling to rest until every populated planet was conquered or destroyed.

  The choice was clear.

  “It's damn risky,” I said. “But you're right. It may be our only hope. Are we within transmitting range of Cexiea?”

  Vahmi checked his instruments. “It'll be a bit of a reach, but if I divert power from all non-essential systems to the communications array, I think we can manage it.”

  “Good. Do it, and key in the comm code for Umel. It should be saved in the Wrath's databanks.”

  Umel was the de facto boss of Cexiea. He ran a scummy brothel, which catered to lowlifes and rejects from every civilized world, and was the trusted lieutenant of Bis'er, the Mana who ran the Sives.

  He was also a smug, abrasive, avaricious bastard, and I wasn't looking forward to dealing with him. In fact, the prospect of doing so almost made me miss the Drekkir.

  We all waited while Vahmi typed in the code, and after a few moments, Umel's visage appeared on our view screen. The image was blurred and pixelated due to the long distance, but his Valkredian features were still visible as he rubbed his hands together and licked his fangs eagerly.

  “General Dhimurs! Hearing from you is certainly an unexpected treat. To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you calling ahead to arrange a private party? If so, I'm confident that I'll be able to offer you and your crewmates a wide range of attractive and willing companions!” His eyes flickered over to Judy. “Or perhaps you're calling because you have a female you wish to sell to me? She's quite buxom, I'd be happy to give you a fair price for her…”

  I cut him off, not wanting to let his chattering needlessly upset Judy and unwilling to let him talk about my mate in such a way. “Watch your tongue, Umel. The answer is neither, though I do have a business proposition I think you'll find appealing.”

  Umel laughed. “Oh really? Suddenly, the high and mighty Valkred Empire wishes to do business with the Sives, after publicly condemning our heinous criminal acts for so long? You must be in dire need, if you're that desperate! This should be good!”

  I sighed angrily. Sure enough, it was like dealing with Bek all over again, except even worse.

  “Zark recently reported that Torqa made you an offer to join her, and you refused.”

  “Mmm,” Umel nodded, lighting a rax pipe and taking a puff. “Technically, Bis'er refused, but yes. Putting aside the trouble Torqa made for us back when she was still working for your government, she's a psychotic megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur. We don't work with people like that. Once they've gotten what they want from the deal, they always end up turning on you. Besides, we're crooks, not terrorists. A small distinction, perhaps, but to our way of thinking, a rather important one.”

  “Then perhaps you'd be willing to help us end her reign of terror once and for all.”

  “Now you're reaching.” Umel took another puff, blowing a series of smoke rings. His eyelids were already growing heavier, and his speech was slowing to a drawl. Rax was a potent drug, and a fast-acting one at that. “Just because we didn't choose to align ourselves with her doesn't mean we're willing to actively challenge her. After all, she's got the entire galaxy running scared. Under the circumstances, I think you'll agree that the wisest course of action on our part would be to sit back, watch you two tear each other apart, and then swoop in and pick up whatever pieces are left for ourselves.”

  “That would be a big mistake, Umel. And a costly one.”

  “Is that right?” Umel gave me a lopsided smile, handing the pipe to a busty Krote prostitute standing behind him. “Very well. Explain to me the error of my ways. And please, no military double-speak… put it to me plainly, in terms that even an ignorant whoremaster like me can understand.”

  “I'll do my best to stick to one- or two-syllable words, then,” I said with a smirk. “You already rejected Torqa's offer. So the prospect of remaining neutral and waiting to see which way the wind blows is ludicrous. If she wins, she won't forget that you turned her down. She'll come after you. And she'll have the fleets and armies of every planet she's conquered at her disposal.”

  Umel shrugged. “She has fleets, we have fleets. She has armies, we have armies. She has guns, we have guns…”

  “And she'll have Lunians,” I cut in. “An entire planet's worth of them. Do you have Lunians, Umel? If so, how many?”

  He shook his head vehemently. “No, that's ridiculous. She may lay waste to the Valkredians, the Mana, the Svanteians, the Drekkir… hell, maybe even the Krote and the Xehrulians, when all is said and done. But tangle with the Moon-Wizards? Even Torqa isn't that crazy.”

  “I can assure you that she is,” Respen chimed in. “You've no doubt heard that her vessel is equipped with a cloaking device. How do you think she's harnessing adequate energy to power it? She's using a Lunian as a living battery. And she has every intention of recruiting more of them… forcibly, if necessary.”

  Umel's eyes widened. “You're lying.”

  “Are we?” I challenged. “You're an experienced gambler, Umel. Look into my eyes. Am I bluffing?”

  “Your so-called 'fleet' is made up of stolen junkers cobbled together from your chop shops,” Surge added. “How do you think they'll fare against a dozen or more cloaked warships? I don't imagine that battle will last more than five minutes. Maybe ten, if she's having an off day.”

  “And you've heard the stories about how she treats her prisoners,” I said. “She's not generally inclined to offer quick deaths to those who have insulted or displeased her.”

  Umel sighed. “All right. You've given me the threat. Now give me the offer. If I can convince Bis'er to aid you against Torqa, what can I tell him you've promised us in return?”

  I spread my arms expansively. “What would you like? Money?”

  “No, we have plenty of other ways to get money. That won't persuade him.” Umel yanked the pipe stem out of the Krote woman's hands, taking another long drag. His eyes were so red that they looked like they were about to start bleeding down his face. “We've heard a lot about her command ship. The Dezmodon, isn't it? Supposed to be huge and fast, not to mention damn terrifying. A vessel like that would be the perfect addition to our fleet of 'junkers,' as you called them. No rival syndicate would ever dream of messing with us again. If we stand with you on this and you succeed in defeating Torqa, the Dezmodon is our asking price, along with every scrap of technology and weaponry aboard. Including the cloaking device.”

  “The cloak will be useless to you,” Surge said. “Without the Lunian it's attached to, you'll have no way to activate it.”

  “Let us worry about that,” Umel snapped. “Do we have a deal, or not?”

  “If that's what it'll take, then yes, we have a deal,” I agreed. I didn't relish the idea of handing such a formidable vessel over to a bunch of thugs, but under the circumstances, it didn't seem as though I had much of a choice.

  “Splendid. I'll make sure Bis'er agrees, then. What plan did you have in mind?”

  “We're going to offer to exchange ourselves for a pair of prisoners currently in her custody,” Judy spoke up.

  “And who might those be?” Umel sounded intrigued, but perhaps it was just the rax, muddying his thoughts and making him focus on random details.

  Judy frowned. “What difference does that make?”

  “Information is power, girl,” Umel replied, leering at her. “When a venture's as risky as this one, we Sives prefer to know all the angles going in. So if you want our help, you'd better tell us the whole story.”

  “Fine,” she agreed. “Torqa's captives are Ekaid and Lidea, the last surviving tribal elders of Macur. And my adoptive parents.”

  “Ah, so you were raised by Macurians, eh?” Umel licked
his lips. “I should have known. I sensed there was something… wild and untamed about you. A shame you won't be joining the other females here in my humble bordello. Are you certain I can't convince you? It's a lucrative lifestyle, not to mention an exciting one. Meet lots of wealthy and interesting people, smoke all the rax you want…”

  “Focus on the situation at hand, Umel,” I growled. I hated the lascivious way he was looking at Judy, and inwardly vowed to find some excuse to wring his neck for it once this was all over.

  He raised his hands, placating. “All right, all right! No need to be so testy. So, you're going to arrange to meet her on Cexiea… and then, during the exchange, my people are supposed to overpower hers so you can subdue her, is that it?”

  “That's correct,” I said. “And keep your ships at the ready, in case her fleet makes a fight out of it.”

  “Huh. What a horribly unimaginative plan. But then, it's about what I'd expect from a rigid military mind like yours. Very well. You have our support. I'll start putting my men into place and tell them to keep a lookout for Torqa so we can be ready to jump in when needed.” He gave Judy one last toothy grin. “I look forward to seeing you in person soon, my dear.”

  He leaned forward to hit the button on his comm link, and disappeared from our view screen.

  “What a sleaze,” Surge said with a grimace.

  “True,” I replied, glad he could no longer see Judy, “but at least he's a sleaze who is on our side. Now that our plan is in place, all that's left to do is contact Torqa.”

  20

  Judy

  My stomach fluttered at Dhimurs' words. He must have sensed it, because he put a hand on my shoulder, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “It's not too late to change your mind and remain behind, Judy. You don't need to put yourself at risk.”

  “We only have one shot at making this work,” I answered. “We need to do it right, or not at all. That means offering me up right along with you.”

  He nodded. “I suspected you'd say that. Your bravery is truly remarkable.”

  I smiled at him. “I had a good teacher.”

  “No. You've had iron in your spine from the first time I met you… surviving on Cexiea, even after your birth mother had died. There aren't many Earthlings who could have managed that, especially at such a young age.”

  “Thank you. I only wish I didn't have to go back there. When you took me away to Macur, I'd hoped I would never set foot on that awful space station again.”

  “Much as I hate to interrupt such a touching moment between the newly-bonded,” Surge interjected sardonically, “there's one thing we still haven't figured out. How are we going to transmit our offer to Torqa? We have no idea where she is or how to reach her.”

  Dhimurs turned to Respen. “Have your abilities returned? Is there any way you can use them to tell us where she might be?”

  Respen shook his head sadly. “Quite the opposite, unfortunately. They've continued to diminish steadily. I apologize.”

  “Then our whole plan is moot!” Surge growled. “How are we supposed to lure the bitch to Cexiea if we can't even find her?”

  “I might be able to offer a solution, actually,” Vahmi said. “We're within range of Kenexa. That's where we think she is, right? Or close to it, at least?”

  “Yes,” Dhimurs replied. “But that still won't let us pinpoint a specific vessel or location for our transmission. Without that, we may as well be writing messages on paper and blowing them out the airlock, hoping they'll find her.”

  “Not exactly. There's an abandoned radio outpost near the edge of that star system – it was put in place centuries ago, by a group of Krote pirates who set up a hideout on a nearby lunar colony. They installed it there to warn them if the discharges from any plasma storms were close enough to threaten them or interfere with their technology. They've long since abandoned the moon, but the outpost should still be there.”

  “How do you know all that?” Surge asked.

  “I've always had a fascination with pirates,” Vahmi retorted smartly. “As a child, I read everything I could get my hands on about them.”

  “Well, I suppose we're all lucky you chose a career in the Valkred military instead of the exciting life of an interstellar swashbuckler,” Dhimurs said with a chuckle. “So you believe we can use this radio outpost to contact Torqa?”

  “To reach out to her, at least, yes.” Vahmi started keying in sequences on his navigational computer. “If we can get close enough to the array, we can use it to amplify our signal and blanket the entire sector. If she's out there, she'll receive our message. Of course, whether she chooses to respond to it is a different thing entirely.”

  “She'll respond,” Dhimurs said. “As Umel pointed out, she's a megalomaniac. She won't pass up an opportunity to taunt and threaten us. She loves the sound of her own voice too much for that.”

  “I hope you're right,” I mumbled. Vahmi's plan sounded solid, but for some reason I couldn't quite pinpoint, I had a bad feeling about it.

  “One way to find out.” Dhimurs settled into the captain's chair as the Wrath made its way toward the edge of the Kenexa system. I drifted after him, settlig in behind the chair, close enough to reach out and touch.

  “I'd like to make a suggestion as well, if I may,” Respen commented. “A way for me to contribute to this endeavor, even without the use of my abilities. Perhaps you should include me in your negotiations. Offer me up to Torqa, along with yourself and Judy. Another Lunian would be a valuable asset to her, especially one who was integral to thwarting her plans on Macur. She would no doubt welcome the chance to install a second cloaking device on one of her other ships, and to harness my power to activate it.”

  “But you've lost your ability to channel cosmic energies,” Dhimurs pointed out. “For the moment, at least.”

  “True. Then again, she has no way of knowing that, does she?”

  Dhimurs thought it over for a long moment, and then shook his head. “No. I appreciate your willingness to risk your life for this plan, but I'm worried that Torqa is too clever to agree to that. If we offer her something as valuable as a Lunian in exchange for two Macurians, she might find that suspicious and realize we have no intention of keeping our part of the bargain. Don't worry, though, Respen. I'm still betting we'll find some way for you to contribute to the success of this mission.”

  Respen nodded placidly. “As you wish.”

  Within the hour, we reached our destination. The stationary planetoid with the radio outpost hung in space on our view screen, the vast metal spire of the comm array sticking out of it like a gargantuan needle. Behind it, the floating plasma clouds roiled and flickered ominously, the energy spikes inside them strobing like dark thoughts pulsing inside evil brains.

  As Vahmi remotely synchronized our comm system with the array's frequency, Thezis muttered, “There's one part of this plan that no one seems to feel like acknowledging.”

  We all turned to him, surprised to hear his voice.

  “By all means, Thezis, enlighten us,” Dhimurs prompted.

  “If that array was put in place to warn the colony about sudden plasma spikes coming out of those storms ahead,” Thezis went on, “what's to stop one of them from zapping us while we're parked out here fiddling with the damn thing?”

  There was a moment of heavy silence as we all contemplated that frightening possibility.

  “Vahmi,” Dhimurs said quietly. “Were you, by any chance, able to reconfigure the shield generators to adequately defend us from the plasma storms, as I asked when we first set out?”

  Vahmi gulped nervously, fidgeting with the collar of his uniform. “I mean, I did my best… but then the Branborgs attacked us and scrapped the generators, and when the Drekkir replaced them, they were returned to their original calibrations.”

  “I see.” Dhimurs closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. “And if we're hit with a plasma spike, what are the odds our ship will remain intact?”

  “Um, I'd calculate
them at about… eleven percent.”

  “Eleven percent.”

  “Give or take, yes, sir.”

  Dhimurs sighed. “In that case, I'd suggest you work quickly, Vahmi.”

  “Yes, sir.” Vahmi rapidly typed in a few final commands. “We've got a lock on the array's frequency. We can broadcast whenever you're ready. What should we send out to make sure we get her attention?”

  “Use this string of call signs.” Dhimurs transmitted them to Vahmi's console. “They were her official identification protocols when she was enlisted in the Valkredian military. She'll be sure to recognize them. Now send it, before we're reduced to a floating pile of ashes.”

  “Understood. Sending now.”

  We all waited, breathless, staring at the array. I imagined I could almost hear the broadcast going out in every direction, like ripples in a pond after a stone has been dropped into it. How long would she keep us waiting before responding? Seconds? Minutes?

  Long enough to be blasted to pieces by the storms?

  I moved a little closer to Dhimurs, and he put an arm around me. I could tell that both of us were thinking the same thing: if a plasma spike did lash out, at least we'd spend our final moments as close to each other as possible. Now I couldn’t be happier that we'd tossed aside our reservations and allowed ourselves to bond with each other after all. The thought of facing the possibility of such a grotesque death without having known the pleasure of Dhimurs’ touch was almost more than I could bear.

  Suddenly, Vahmi's face lit up. “Receiving her answer now, sir!”

  “Excellent.” Dhimurs breathed a sigh of relief, removing his arm from my shoulders and standing up crisply. “Put it on screen.”